by Karen Abbott
Dani felt her face blanch and she stepped back as if lashed.
“But, Papa …!” the small boy objected, twisting in his father’s arms to regard his face.
Dani felt a hand grip hold of her shoulder. It was the driver of the police car.
“I’ll take over now, monsieur!” he said grimly. “Get into the car, mademoiselle.”
Dani felt a wash of shame flow over her as she stooped to get into the rear of the police car and was thankful that no-one in the crowd knew her. She wondered if Christian and his father would get into the car also but m. Gallepe declined. He probably didn’t want his son to be further contaminated by her presence, Dani ruefully reflected as the doors of the car were locked.
She cast a backward glance through the rear window and could see m. Gallepe holding the hand of his small son as they followed them down the road. In spite of the injustice Dani was feeling, she knew the man was overwrought and just needed time to calm down. She hoped Christian was telling his father what had really happened!
By the time Christian and his father reached the Gendarmerie, Dani had been released from the rear of the car and hustled through the outer reception area into a room towards the rear. She was cautioned and offered the services of a lawyer but she declined the offer. It would take extra time and a glance at the clock on the wall made her hope that everything would be sorted out without too much of a delay … or she would be stranded here overnight.
Dani was partway through her explanation when a knock on the door heralded the arrival of m. Gallepe. One look at his face showed that Christian had indeed told his father how he had wandered away from the playground and Dani wondered how gracious his father’s apology would be.
“It seems we acted precipitously, mademoiselle,” m. Gallepe ventured, after a few words with her interrogator. “Though I must point out that you acted very foolishly by not bringing Christian directly here.”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” she excused herself. “I just thought that, if Brigitte were still at the playground looking for Christian, it would be better to simply reunite them.”
After a few formalities, Dani was given permission to leave the Gendarmerie without any further action to be taken … but was given a repeat of m. Gallepe’s criticism of her action. Dani accepted the rebuke. She would know better next time.
Next time?
She hoped there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’!
“Has Brigitte shown up yet?” she asked conversationally, as she accompanied m. Gallepe and Christian outside. She felt a wave of freedom wash over her, making her feel a little light-headed.
“No. … and she will have some explaining to do, when she does so!” m. Gallepe said grimly. He held out his hand. “Once again, I ask your forgiveness for my rash accusation, mademoiselle. I can only plead the anxiety I had over Christian’s safety.”
Dani took hold of his hand. It felt cool and firm, a bit like his character, she reflected.
“That’s all right. I understand,” she replied with a smile.
She let go of his hand and crouched down in front of Christian.
“And always stay with your childminder, Christian,” she advised him. “Then you won’t get lost again.”
Christian nodded, his head down.
“What are you going to say to mademoiselle Cachart, Christian?” his father reminded him sternly.
Dani glanced up at him as he spoke and was startled to see that, in spite of his sternness, there was a gentleness about his face now and she wondered that she hadn’t noticed it before.
“I’m sorry,” Christian mumbled, scuffling the toes of his shoes on the pavement.
“And?” prompted his father patiently.
Whilst his attention was on his son, Dani scrutinised his face. He was darkly tanned, suggesting that he worked outdoors, though his hands were smooth suggesting that his work wasn’t manual. He was very good-looking, with his dark hair cut reasonably short and brushed back off his face.
“Thank you for looking after me,” Christian’s small voice cut into her thoughts.
“That’s all right! It was my pleasure,” Dani answered softly, gently squeezing his shoulders. She straightened up and faced his father, now noting his firm chin and the suggestion of a dimple at the corner of his mouth. His lips were forming into a farewell smile and Dani felt her heart begin to flip as the warmth of his smile enveloped her.
Phew! Careful, girl! This man is married, with a young son. Hands off!
She felt a faint blush beginning to creep up her face and she averted her glance, speaking briskly.
“If you’ll excuse me, m. Gallepe, I must go. I have a bus to catch,” she added, glancing at her watch. “Oh, no!”
The dismay in her voice was unmistakable.
“There is a problem, mademoiselle?”
“My bus has gone … and I bet the ‘Syndicat d’Initiative’ is closed, too! I left my bag there,” she added by way of explanation. “That’s torn it!”
All romantic notions flew out of her head and practicality took over. She thrust out her hand once more in a farewell gesture. “I’m sorry, m. Gallepe, I must go. I need to telephone my friend and let her know I’m here. I’m sure she’ll come out to pick me up.”
M. Gallepe held on to her hand.
“You are staying on the island?”
“Yes. That is, hopefully! I’ve come unannounced, to surprise my friend! She lives at Le Deu, a small village near Vertbois. That’s on the Atlantic coast ...”
“I know where it is, mademoiselle. We are staying at Vertbois ourselves. You must allow me to take you to your friend’s home. It’s the least I can do after all this,” waving his hand towards the Gendarmerie.
Her hand was still trapped in his and Dani was aware of all sorts of tingles coursing through her. She flicked up her eyelashes and met his dark eyes, now crinkled at the corners and not in the least icy cold as they had been earlier. In fact, they seemed full of warmth and hopeful of her acceptance.
“Is Dani coming to our house?” Christian asked.
“Not quite,” his father smiled, “but maybe she will another day, if that’s possible.”
He looked enquiringly at Dani but Dani didn’t want to commit herself. She wasn’t sure she could cope with a friendship with a married man, even if the friendship had been brought about by his young son.
“I’ll see,” she temporised. “I’m hoping to get a job for the summer, so I expect that will keep me quite busy.”
They set off to walk to the car park near the citadel, where m. Gallepe had parked his car earlier in the afternoon. As they turned into the road they could see the figure of a young teenager hovering uncertainly at the top of the steps at the entrance to the playground, anxiously looking up and down the road.
Dani wasn’t surprised when Christian said, “There’s Brigitte!”
“So I see!” his father said grimly. He rooted in his trouser pocket for his car keys and handed them to Dani. “Take Christian to my car, will you, Dani. He’ll show you which one it is. Press this button to turn off the alarm.”
A bemused Dani did as she was bidden and, after fastening Christian into his car seat, she seated herself beside him. Having already been on the receiving end of his anger, she didn’t envy Brigitte her turn, even though it was more deserved than her own.
It was five minutes before Christian’s father escorted the subdued teenager to the car and opened the rear door of the silver open-topped Peugeot.
“Join me in the front, please, mademoiselle Cachart, if you will? Brigitte will sit with Christian.”
He held the door open whilst Dani climbed out and Brigitte scrambled in, checked that his son’s safety harness was fastened correctly, giving Dani a brief smile of approval when he found that it was, and then opened the passenger door for her.
There was a strained atmosphere throughout the journey that only Christian seemed to be unaware of … and he only chattered briefly before falling asleep in his car seat
, emotionally worn out by his unscheduled adventure.
“Where is your friend’s home, mademoiselle?” m. Gallepe asked as they drew near to Le Deu.
“I’m not sure,” Dani admitted, “but it’s next to a windmill that is being renovated.”
“Ah! I know it. We are almost there.”
Round a bend in the road … and there it was. Scaffolding had been erected around the outside of the windmill and it was in the process of being repainted. There were no sails fixed to the topmost section but the new wooden lattes on the conical roof showed that it wouldn’t be long before its outer restoration would be complete.
A single-storey cottage stood about a hundred metres away. Hollyhocks grew profusely against its sunny wall and rambling roses twined themselves around an old-fashioned well in the courtyard.
It looked delightful.
Dani turned to Christian’s father. “Thank you for the lift, monsieur Gallepe.”
“Call me Alex,” he smiled. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
“Yes,” Dani responded noncommittally as she slid out of her seat, doubting the wisdom of his intention. She smiled briefly at the still discomfited Brigitte and pushed the door closed.
With a wave of his hand and a devastating smile that made Dani even less sure of his wisdom in expecting any sort of casual friendship between them, Alex drove on his way.
Dani watched until the car was out of sight and then turned towards the windmill.
What would Lys say when she saw her?
“Dani!”
Lys’s shriek nearly lifted the roof off the small stone cottage. She hesitated in disbelief for only a second or two before she flung wide her arms and ran towards the doorway where Dani stood framed against the outside brightness.
Dani let go of her apprehension about the reception of her unannounced visit and met her friend’s undoubted welcome with as loud a squeal of her own. They hugged, held each other at arms’ length and hugged again.
“You sly puss!” Lys teasingly accused Dani. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I’d have met you in Le Chateau!”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, as her brain slipped into gear.
“How did you get here, by the way? The bus went by ages since, just before I stopped work.” She indicated her paint-splattered hands that she had been in the process of washing.
Dani laughed. “It’s a long story, though I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. The thing is, I’m rather hoping I’ll be able to stay with you for a while. What d’you think? I’ll get a job of some sort. I’ll pay my way!”
“Goose! As if that matters! ’Course you can stay! I’m sure Grand-père will make no objection; he’s not exactly living here himself, at the moment. We had a bit of bother with someone breaking in and turning the place over a few weeks ago and he’s been staying at a neighbour’s house ever since. You remember he’d had a heart attack, don’t you?”
Dani did remember. It was that fact that had shattered their plans to spend the summer together … and led Lys and her grandfather to consider renovating the long-disused windmill into a working museum for people to visit.
A charcoal line-drawing of an elderly man was displayed on the old dresser which stood along an inner wall.
“Is that your grandfather, Lys? Has Xavier drawn it?”
“Yes. Wait ’til you meet Grand-père and you see how lifelike it is! Xavier has a wonderful talent. He’ll be famous one day, you wait and see! He’s very popular with the tourists. They queue for ages to have their portraits drawn and his other sketches sell as fast as he can draw them. He calls them his ‘bread and butter work’ … you know, something to bring in the money whilst he paints his more serious work. He had some gorgeous paintings of some horses when he first arrived here but they were stolen one night and he got pretty well knocked about by the thieves.”
“Didn’t you say his father is a count?”
“Yes … but they’ve hit a rough time recently and he obviously needs to work for his living. He runs a racing stable and stud farm and Xavier did the paintings on commission for some of the owners. The loss of the paintings was quite a blow to him. Weeks of work wasted! He’ll have to paint them again when he returns to the mainland.”
“What’s the count like? Did you have to curtsey when you met him?”
“Of course not! He’s not royalty! He’s just an ordinary man. Mind you, he did arrive in his own helicopter, so I suppose they must be above averagely rich. But Xavier’s the younger son. He’s got to make his own way in life. None of the inheritance will come to him. It will all go to his brother. In fact, he thought his brother was mixed up in the theft of his paintings but Henri swears he wasn’t!”
“Some brother! Still, you can’t choose your relations, can you?”
Dani grinned at Lys.
“Anyway, I can’t wait to meet Xavier! D’you think he’ll do my portrait?”
“Probably. Just join the queue. He has a studio in an old fisherman’s hut near the port at Le Chateau. He’ll sketch a quick likeness for five euros! You’d better get in quick before he puts his prices up to reflect his true worth!”
“I’ll do that! Anyway, enough about your boyfriend! Wait ’til I tell you what happened to me this afternoon. I got myself arrested, no less!”
Dani light-heartedly shared the events that had happened since she set foot on the island, raising incredible laughter and teasing remarks from Lys until they were giggling like a pair of schoolgirls after a telling-off from their Senior Mistress.
When they had sobered sufficiently, Lys took her along to meet her Grand-père , who was living temporarily with madame Giraud, the local patisserie owner. Madame Giraud had made a large enough quantity food for their evening meal to stretch to include Dani and afterwards Lys insisted that she went with her back to Le Chateau to spend the evening with Xavier and the other artisans who were renting similar studios to Xavier’s near the port.
The small commune of simple wooden studios had originally been the working cabins of some of the many fishermen of Ile D’Oleron, whose trade, though still in existence, was not as prolific as in former years. Many smaller businesses and one-man enterprises had been squeezed out of the market and the successful ones tended to have premises that were more suited to modern life, leaving the smaller cabins to be taken over by those more inclined towards the artistic crafts and trade.
It was a wonderful introduction to the island’s nightlife. They were a good-natured crowd and Dani light-heartedly fended off much flirtatious banter offered by some of the young artisans. It was all offered in good part and was received as such.
It had been a long day and Dani was glad when Lys suggested that they made for home. Sleep wasn’t long in settling upon her and, in the morning, Dani was disconcerted to realise that her dreams had been peppered with the elusive memory of a pair of shining ebony eyes … but she found it impossible to decide whether they belonged to her dashing, frolicking clown or to Christian’s handsome father.
Chapter 3
Alex spent the early part of the evening playing with Christian, allowing him to talk about his afternoon adventure and his curiosity about the clowns playing at ‘bang-bangs’.
“Was it like when they are in the circus, falling off their bikes and throwing buckets of water at everyone?” Christian asked anxiously. “And one always runs away pretending to be frightened?”
“Something like that,” Alex replied tentatively, trying to find a middle course between warning of the danger but not making his son more upset than was necessary. “But it was wrong to frighten people who didn’t know it was a game. Some people found it very alarming. And it is always wrong to steal money.”
“Were the clowns bad, then, Papa?”
“Those particular ones were. They weren’t real clowns, you see.”
“But real clowns aren’t bad, are they?”
“No. Real clowns only pretend to do silly or dangerous things.”
“Like climbing
up a ladder that isn’t leaning against anything?”
“Yes. They are very clever and it takes a lot of practice. They are very clever acrobats.”
“And you’re very clever, aren’t you, Papa?”
Alex laughed, sweeping Christian into his arms and swinging him around with his legs flying out. “I’m glad you think so. I must be clever to have a son like you!”
“I was a bit naughty, though, wasn’t I?”
“You mean leaving Brigitte like that? Yes, you were. I hope you’ll never do anything like that again.”
“I’m sorry, Papa,” Christian said in a subdued voice. His face brightened. “But I did meet Dani, didn’t I? She bought me an ice-cream and found the swings again. You weren’t really cross with her, were you?”
“Only at first … because I thought she had taken you away from Brigitte.”
“That was silly, Papa! She wouldn’t do that! She’s nice! I knew that straightaway!”
Alex was bemused by Christian’s uncomplicated instant character assessment … but he nodded his head, smiling as he did so.
“Yes, she’s nice.”
The memory of his outburst and hasty accusation brought a wry twist to his lips. She probably didn’t think he was very nice!
The thought startled him and unaccountably subdued him for the remainder of the evening ... long after he had completed his paperwork and finished off a bottle of his favourite Bordeaux wine.
Heavens! He was getting maudlin ... and that wouldn’t do! He’d better do something about it … tomorrow.
The first thing the two girls did the next day was to inspect the interior of the windmill. Lys described with pride how dilapidated it had been less than two months previously and how they had achieved its swift renovation.
“We got a grant from the local council because it is hoped to draw tourists into the area,” she explained as she opened the solid wooden door and ushered Dani inside. “And because we are doing some of the work ourselves, we have been able to engage a specialist to renovate the sails and all the machinery. I’m acting as labourer to a local builder and painter, which has saved us some money.”
